I’m sure we all have those moments now and then when we just feel like getting out of our daily routines and escaping to somewhere else. Maybe it’s our happy place. When I was a kid, my “happy place” was anywhere on the road with my dad. I spent most of my free time, and often time that wasn’t exactly free, daydreaming about being out there, somewhere, worlds away, riding in the truck. I admit that even when I was actually on a road trip with dad, there were long, uneventful, days when I’d get a little bored, but I’d quickly remind myself that those times would not last forever. And, in the blink of an eye, I’d be back in school, wishing I was worlds away, bored, in the shotgun seat. My mind became a steel trap for memorizing the things I’d see on the road, along with the scents, sounds, and other things that I wanted to remember vividly when I couldn’t be out there with him. I imagine there are some of you out there who can relate to that feeling. And, more than likely, there is a new generation of future drivers who are currently feeling the same urges to be carried off, worlds away, with the inspirational truck drivers they are influenced by. It’s mid-summer already. Wow! Hopefully those shotgun seats are occupied with a younger version of yourself, full of wanderlust, and not trapped in their daily routines, or staring at their phones.
WORLDS AWAY
By Trevor Hardwick
I remember, ten years old,
Just sittin’ in my class.
Listenin’ to my teacher,
And wishing time would pass.
Her voice kept droning on and on,
The monotone sure sucks.
My mind would wander, worlds away,
As I sat there drawing trucks.
I could picture, in my mind,
The dashboard glow at night.
Or reflections in the convex mirror,
Of rows of chicken lights.
I can hear the squeaky sound,
Of El Dorado seats.
Bouncing against upholstered walls,
As we rolled through city streets.
I still hear the white noise,
On the CB radio.
And the way dad’s voice would rise above,
The rhythm of the road.
There were days I might get bored,
And I’d drift off to sleep.
While watching a mirage,
As it dissipates the heat.
A thousand miles from nowhere,
To wherever we may roam.
As long as dad was at the wheel,
I always felt at home.
The old pneumatic wipers,
Had their own hypnotic sound.
Out of sync with one another,
As rain kept pouring down.
When evening came the sun would set,
And streak across the hood.
The night would chase us down again,
And I knew life was good.
But then the bell would ring again,
And wake me from my trance.
I’m back in class, but I’d be gone,
If I had half a chance.
Worlds away, my dad is out there,
Chasin’ down the line.
And I’m just doing who-knows-what,
While tryin’ to pass the time.
So, take me from this old routine,
The same thing every day.
I’ll hop back in with my old man,
And he’ll take me worlds away.
